Aug 2026

Not all pelicans are Hank...

Kate’s daily runs when she’s in Oakland, often take her to nearby Lake Merritt. That’s where Hank the pelican lives. He’s unable to fly much, so that’s his permanent home. He’s got lots of friends there… and many are not even pelicans.

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course 

Aug 2025

I wandered..

Lonely as a cloud…
Then found
I was in the spotlight

Doing an amazing
Solo. 
...
Thank you Roy for the pix
And your 13 years of
Being my wonderful 
Neighbour
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2024

A Holiday for Batman...

Batman was born in Berkeley
Some 14 years ago
And he adopted Kate
Just a few weeks later.



He enjoyed his 2nd-floor home
In leafy Berkeley
For three years, when
They moved to 3rd-floor brownstone
In urban Brooklyn…
Then onward to a cliff-top
New Jersey 20th floor aerie…
Overlooking another cityscape
And west to the hills.

He’s explored a few nearby parks
Riding in his carrier
Wearing a little harness
When he felt like
Venturing onto the actual
Earth and her grasses.

He has joined Kate and David
For this summer’s extended
Holiday near that Berkley beginning…
This time in a 1st-floor apartment
That seems to have been designed
As a photo setting just for him.
There are lots of leafy trees
And chatty passers-by…
And there’s even a fancy peacock,
Named Fancy,
That wanders around and swoops up trees!



Sooooo much for Batman to see.

Isn’t that what we all want
On our own holidays?
   A change of scenery…
   Some adventure…
   And
   A brand new
   Point of view
   On Life’s ever-expanding
   Possibilities…
And it never hurts to have
A remarkable photo setting.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

 

Aug 2023

Lush... A richness in so many ways...

Grandson Lucas and his sweetie Lauren
Both graduated from university
This just-past spring.
After a trip to Halifax
They decided that’s where they
Wanted to make their first home
Together.
They are now each employed
At their first grown-up jobs…
Lucas writes remotely
For The Peak, a daily newsletter
That focusses on Canadian business
And the international news that affects
It—and therefore—us.
Lauren has found work in Halifax
And come September they move
From temporary summer digs
Into an amazing apartment
That’s part of a house built in 1870!

The day in this pic,
Lucas and Lauren strolled
Among these rich greens of
Cape Breton National Park…
Where they found this gushy waterfall.

Theirs is a life filled with
The lushness of nature
And of youth and of the promises
Their lives hold
For them…
And for the rest of us.
Because as family…
And friends…
And even
As friends of friends.
We can all rejoice
In our own reflections
Of their lush experiences.

I say,
Hooray!
I am such a lucky
Nana Bee!
...
     FYI, my still-new post-cataract eyes
     That continue to be amazed
     By all things blue…
     Also relish wallowing
     In the copious greens
     That keep viing for my attention…
     Just in case you haven’t noticed
     In many of my recent calendars.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2022

 

Easy like a frog a-walkin'..

If you’ve been following
My FB feed lately
You might have noticed a whole slew
Of frog images.
That’s because I love frogs
AND I knew
This wondrous image
From Mike Lush
(Yes, Kathy’s bro)
Was coming up this month.
Seems FB conspired
To help me prime the pump, eh?

FB had fed this pic
To Mike as a memory
From 10 years ago…
And he still had the original…
And he knew exactly
Where to find it.

Twas fast and easy.
Which brings us to
Today’s title line:
     Easy like a frog a-walkin’
Peter’s dad, LB, used to say this
When we might today say
Piece of cake or
Easy as falling off a log or
Easy as shooting fish in a barrel or
My personal fave:
Easy-peasy. Lemon-squeezy.

I never knew where
LB’s version came from
And a quick poll of
Some of my fellow Texans
Didn’t shed any light.
YouTube does talk about
Frogs that walk instead of hop.
They can still hop and swim
But they mostly just prefer to walk.
And it looks easy for them, eh?

Several weeks ago
Mike sent me this delightful pic
And I immediately prepaed
This month’s calendar with it.
But I kept putting off
Writing these words for you until
This Sunday night that is
Almost August.
It’s been a quick write.
We might even say
     Easy like a frog a-walkin’
Eh?
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

August 2021

 

Things That Match My Kitchen...

It started with my clothes,
Then branched out into
My graphic designs…
And eventually a room in my house.
I was travelling while
Painters did my bidding.
Peter phoned and raised an alarm,
“Mum they’re painting
Your dining room the colour
Of gel toothpaste!”

I guess it was…
Maybe I should fall
In love with gel toothpaste, too!
Of course, it was just the walls.
Ceiling and woodwork
Remained a pure bright white…
And a row of pre-Ikea
White bookshelves
Spanned the wall
Below the white-framed window.
And the tablecloth
Was was a dusty shade
Of gel toothpaste.

Any art I hung on those walls
Sang in ways I’d never known.
Some call it turquoise…
But I call it Bright Teal.
It sings.
It zings.
It brings it’s song
To whatever hangs on it.

I love it.

I’ve used it for accents
And for great swaths.
I’ve used it with orange.
But mostly I’ve used it
With lime green.
That’s my favourite pairing.
Today in this apartment
I’ve got bright teal
Curtains spanning
Walls of windows
In both living room
And bedroom…
And a row of Ikea Kallax Bookshelves
In now-discontinued deep turquoise
March along one wall…
And my kitchen boasts
Walls and cabinets
In My Bright Teal…
With a backsplash
Of a paler aqua shade
In faux glass tiles.
I have bright teal
Throw pillows…
Balcony table and chairs…
Bedspread…
And even a Yeti tumbler
For my summer iced tea.
+
Kate and David recently
Travelled out west
Where they stayed in LA
Across the street from
This house…
And this car.
Of course she sent the pic.
And of course, I want it
Because it matches my kitchen.

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2020

Keeping my distance...

Spring has truly turned
Into a steaming summer
As attested to by
Colours bursting forth
Far and wide.
Online images show us
Tulip fields
Without us!
Parks and ponds
Without us!
Forests and glades
Without us!
And the blooms
Frolic unabated
In our absence.

Seems Mama Nature
Knows her part
And is splendidly keeping
Her show on the road...
With the ever-buzzy aid
Of some dusty-bottomed
Minions.

Kate found this evidence
On the north side of her NJ home.
She says these clustered blooms
Remind her of a basket of
Playmobil flowers.
I see sunflowers, tulips,
And daffodils.
But what are these
Bee magnets called?
Do you have any clues?
The bee, of course
Doesn't care.


...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2019

 

Laze, haze, & daze... tis summer at last...

When I was a girl, my dad's brother bought a small getaway next to a small New Mexico lake. I don't remember the name of the lake, but Uncle Dick referred to his cabin as a cabinet. I remember my parents laughing at his nomenclature—until we got there. It was a barren beachfront with about 30 tiny buildings sharing a clap-trap communal outhouse. TINY. It was indeed a cabinet. Plus no trees. People just parked their cars next to their own cabinets and it was so hot on the sand they drove the 20 yards to the outhouse. I don't remember anything else. OK: bugs. I remember bugs. The lake seemed murky and was not very inviting. From my today's mind, I'm guessing people must have had boats and gone out on the water to fish, but I certainly don't remember any of that. My memories are full of only the discomfort and the TINY-ness. I was about to start the third grade in Lubbock, Texas, at the time, so maybe you'll forgive my narrow focus.

Granted, in Texas, many people had cabins on one lake or another, but they were not common among my friends as I grew up in San Antonio... and those cabins were more often rustic one-room affairs, each situated on a small wooded lot with its own well and outhouse. That had always been my understanding of what a cabin was supposed to be.

Since coming to Toronto, I've been introduced to the tradition of cottages, cottage country, and cottage season. Cottage country is marked by many small lakes and lots of picturesque woodlands. The tradition is from before the days of working mums. On the first weekend as soon as school was out at the end of June, families would pack up bedding, pots and pans, linens, food, and water toys galore and drive several hours to their own cottage or one they'd rented for the summer. The dad would help them get settled in, then return to work Monday morning. Then every Friday the dad would return for the weekend, often indulging in boating and fishing and maybe even dock repairs—then rush back to his job in the city on Mondays. Of course, if the dad could arrange his work vacation to fall during this time he could stay a week or two. He and his friends might spend their time putting a new roof on the cottage. These days the tradition continues, but with adjustments for working mums and sometimes these arrangements involve nannies. The high-school version of Kate did a summer stint as a nanny at one such cottage.

Family cottages might be small or even rather large houses. They are never, ever cabinets. They may or may not have wells, but they always seem to have a way to bring water from whatever nearby lake is offering its presence as excuse for the season. Drinking water, then, is often carried from nearby springs. Septic tanks have made indoor plumbing possible for many. Many cottages these days have ALL the mod cons.  Larger families share their cottages generation after generation. Some families seem to pile in all at once like a hive and others work out their own time-share arrangements. But all the family cottagers share in the upkeep and the expectation of relaxation away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

The view here is from Marje's family cottage. It's is on a very quiet small lake in the Muskoka region a few hours north of Toronto. I hear the black flies can carry one away. Monday night's storm blew these very chairs over, but not away. Stormy gusts are obviously less onerous than country insects. There's no denying the idyl of it all, though, is there? Haze, mist, and the myst-ery of calm solitude. Ah-h-h-h-h-h.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2018

Sunrise. Moonset. Softly flow the days...

On the heels of its total eclipse, the Blood Moon continues to entrance and mystify. Sunday's brilliant reflection of the sunrise shows that very same moon setting as it too reflects the dawn's early light.

See the shadow cast on the trees in the foreground. That's my very own apartment building which perches on a hilltop overlooking this daily spectacle.

We're in the midst of what astrologers call the eclipse season. Eclipses are associated with far-reaching changes, depending on where they fall in each person's unique chart. Nothing fast and finite, but sometimes dramatic in overall effect. This particular eclipse pattern is similar to those in 1998-2000. It's a good time to reflect on what was going on in your personal life-story during those years. Then expect these eclipses to affect the same parts of your life.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2017

By the light of the silvery Moon...

There’s lots of talk these days about the exciting upcoming total solar eclipse. Mark it on your calendars: August 21st, the day of the New Moon, aka the Dark of the Moon. Go here to learn about the eclipse.

The staring role that day isn’t the Sun, however, but the Moon. It's about how our Moon’s cycles mark our lives. She causes the tides to ebb and to flow, and she shows us how time passes with infinite patterns, and she inspires contemplation and song and dance and poems—indeed luminous art of all varieties. We humans have always been in love with our Moon.

Our Moon always turns the same face to us as we stand here upon the Earth. She is both mysterious and consistent that way. As we gaze up at her face, her dark side always remains hidden from us. Throughout each of her 28-day cycles her face reflects the light of the Sun displaying all her glory to us in predictable ways. We call these her phases and since the beginning of human time we have assigned meanings to these phases as lunar moods and we have used them to understand and demonstrate our own cycles of being and doing.

From her invisible New Moon she waxes, showing us increasing slices of her face until we see her in all her glory at her radiant Full Moon. Then she wanes, showing us decreasing slices of her face until she is invisible yet again as another New Moon. We watch and we marvel still.

• New Moon: The time to set a new intention. This is the time to reflect and set a new goal—an intention not just an aspiration or dream, but a determination, large or small, for the upcoming month.
• Crescent Moon: The time to relax into our new intention, to gather our inner resolve and focus, to map out our plan.
• First Quarter Moon: Our to-do list gets some of it’s first items accomplished.
• Gibbous Moon: We keep checking off more items on our to-do list, feeling ever more confident that we are in sync with our own destiny.
• Full Moon: We move ahead with bright clarity OR we might recognize that we need to correct our course and perhaps even move this goal to a different cycle. Our clarity excites and calms us.
• Disseminating Moon: We feel grateful as we sense our own purpose and place in the universe. We receive love and support from others who feel grateful to have us a part of their world.
• Third Quarter Moon: Now we know how to support others, too, and we proceed to use our re-directed intention to add to their sense of purpose.
• Balsamic Moon: This is the time of quiet reflection, looking back on this cycle and resting up for the next.

The Full Moon of each month also shows us the marching orders for the seasons. We humans have always seen fit to give names to each seasonal Full Moon, according to our time and culture. On the 7th of this month we’ll see the Sturgeon Moon. It's also been called the Green Corn Moon, the Grain Moon, the Harvest Moon, and the Red Moon for the reddish hue it often takes on in the summer haze. There are lots more. Want to learn about the names of the Full Moons and even about Blue Moons? Go here and here.

I invite you to watch the sky for her many patterns. And to listen to songs. Maybe even to make your own.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2016

My home beyond the veil...
The history of bridges is rife stories of the drive for communication and expansion. In 1911 my mother was being being born in NYC, home to over 2,000 bridges and tunnels... lots of expansive talking going on then and there. At the same time in Toronto citizens were trying to decide whether to build a bridge across the Don River to further their own expansive conversations. Referenda were held each year from 1910 til 1913, with residents voting against its construction in 1912 by 59 votes and finally in favour in 1913 by 9236 votes.

Known officially as the Prince Edward Viaduct, today we mostly now call it the Bloor Viaduct. It's part of a set of three bridges: this big one crosses the Don River (and now the DVP and the train tracks and the Bayview Extension plus a well-used bike path), then there's the bridge that crosses the Rosedale ravine and the other that connects the original terminus of Bloor Street to the Rosedale section.

The three-bridge system was designed by Toronto architect Edmund W. Burke. He also designed Trinity-St. Paul's United Church and the Robert Simpson's Department Store building, now home to The Bay and most recently Sak's Fifth Avenue. Time marches, eh?

But back to the Viaduct. Because it was second only to San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge in attracting suicides, in 2003 a barrier of steel rods was added to shield would-be jumpers. The barrier was designed by architect Dereck Revington and is called the Luminous Veil. Yes, it is. And last year lights were finally added to the veil so it glows in colour at night. Yes, it does.

Edmond Burke's bridges opened in 1918 and just a few months ago a great little pub bearing his name opened near the big bridge and its enlightened veil... and just around the corner from my home in the sky.

You can see that home beyond the veil here... it's that tall building in the background with some lights on, but not mine, because I was standing on the Prince Edward Viaduct taking this picture for you.
....
If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.
                                    ~Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2015

It's not all about the storm...

Yesterday we Torontonians (and beyond) were entranced by a dramatic wall of storm that rolled in suddenly and made a lot of light and noise. I watched from my balcony, then rushed inside as the cloud totally engulfed me. The rain beat against my windows... then it was all over. The clouds retreated overhead taking their lights and noises east with them. Dark time was all clear, then later another line of rain and lights and noises. Our morning brought another glorious sunrise... facing west I see it all in reflection of the city skyline.

I'll admit, I took this partic sunrise a couple of days ago, just to catch that blue moon!

Aug 2014

August washes in bringing summer’s left-overs.

Where I am, summer’s been only a glimmer of “better-than-winter” this year. Today bodes better, unless the rain returns.

Kate was recently in Ponang in South Korea, where summer was overpoweringly hot and where she found this starfish washed ashore. 

What are my summer left-overs? Open windows. Iced tea on the balcony. 

New streetcar-tracks… for new streetcars due the end of the month. 

Walks in Riverdale Park. Farmers’ market in Withrow Park. Always carrying my umbrella. 

Dough Bakeshop’s ice cream sandwiches made with their own choc chip cookies and chocolate Kiwartha ice cream.

OK… gotta get to Dough right now. It’s a nice walk there and the very-vocal orange tabby that hangs out on the corner just might greet me along my way.

It is still summer, after all. Enjoy

Aug 2013

SEEKING SHADE 

In the last month we've had such a range of weather to complain about and even to rejoice in: oppressive heat, a flood with resulting electrical blackout, and supreme bouts of coolth. I found myself remembering the sweltering heat of Barbados AND how Bajan architecture welcomes the Sun and uses his own power to beat back the discomfort he can cause. 

In Bridgetown at the George Washington House... where George visited as a young man and developed his interest in becoming a soldier... I saw how people filtered water through a stack of coral stones situated under the dense shade of an old tree. Since the island is made of coral, this idea was probably obvious then. 

In Spightstown I visited Arlington House, home to the Skinner family for some 200 years... and where they operated a ship's chandlery on the ground floor. Generations of Skinners and their guests were able to escape the then-capital's hustle and bustle on this louvered second-floor balcony. Britishly, of course, they called it the first floor. I sat here relishing the cool quiet before venturing back out into the glare for more exploring. 

I meandered and visited a gallery featuring artist Bill Grace's sculpture, then I crossed the street and found a beach-front cafe. There I soaked up the shade of sweeping trees and a salt-tinged breeze and some refreshing coconut water with some local fish. 

It's really hard to complain about Nature's extreme heat, when she also provides such glorious respite. All we have to do is find it. After all, shade only works when there's a powerful sun to create it. 

Enjoy the rest of your summer, eh?

Aug 2012

These days it’s all about bringing home the gold.

I think we all get excited watching Olympic athletes. All these talented and committed people who make a habit of doing impossible things everyday. I smile with pride at sharing humanity with them.

My own two kids have also made it their habits to do many impossible things. Witness last month’s San Francisco Marathon. Peter came from his home in Barbados to visit Kate in Berkeley. They had agreed to run: he, the full marathon, and Kate, the half marathon.

The first part of the amazing route includes crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, then turning about and recrossing it going the other way. Kate reported on her facebook page: “the best part of the run was spotting my brother and giving him a high five as we passed each other on the bridge.”

Peter finished in 4:23:52. Kate finished in 2:21:23. I’ve put their medals below over the pic I took of the bridge when I visited there a few years ago. Again, I get to share in the impossible. I’m smiling.

Aug 2011

Sun! Sun! Sun!

At last we have a summer to brag about: my excuse for a tardy calendar.

Aug 10

I'm so happy to announce...

In November of 1981 my little girl Kate started to Montessori school at the age of 2. Becky was her first teacher. She obviously started things off right. This morning Kate successfully defended her doctoral thesis and is now Dr. Kate.

Next she will begin post-doctoral studies at Berkeley.

Wherever you are, please join me in raising a glass in honour of all her hard work and her joy, which I share with tearful glee.